"Sorry," Ted had wheezed, "it's not gonna happen."
He had rolled off Laura, and lay there like a fish out of water, puffing. Laura had wriggled onto her side, and cuddled up to him, but he hadn't really appreciated her closeness - he was overheating as it was. She had rubbed a hand gently but firmly up and down his heaving chest. She'd got hers. She was content.
She was beautiful, to him. And he loved her very much. But neither were as young or energetic as they were, and lovemaking had become an infrequent intrusion into their lives. Twice now Ted had failed to perform as he would wish. He put it down to being unfit, the central heating being too high, a slight hangover from the two glasses of Merlot the night before.
Anything really.
Now he lay on a too-firm bed under a too-white light in a too-warm hotel room, after a long day of seminars and presentations, and wishing he was at home with her, and knowing he wouldn't see her for another two days. He was in that limbo time between the end of the days conference activity, and dinner. Nothing to do but watch rolling news or brood over his dwindling libido. The news made a valiant attempt at holding his attention, but the libido won.
Ted showered, and after roughly towelling himself dry, settled on the bed and reached into his briefcase for the magazine. The smooth glossy pages clung to his damp fingertips, as he slowly worked his way through the pages. He lingered over the pictures of a blonde; her face and the cut of her hair reminded him of Laura when she was in her twenties, but the vacant eyes and exaggerated pout were utterly alien. Her skin was too smooth, too flawless.
He moved on. More blondes, a redhead, a brunette. All very pretty, and very naked, but a quick glance over the top of the magazine confirmed what Ted already felt. Or rather, didn't feel.
Resigned, he placed the magazine carefully back inside the briefcase, where it wouldn't show, and got dressed. Ten minutes until he was due to meet his colleagues in the Hotel restaurant, and he couldn't be bothered with the TV, so he went and looked out of the window. His room was at the front of the broad convex curve of the hotel, looking down into the drop-off and priority parking area, then across the busy road and into the broad green park opposite. The trees that lined the road had shed their foliage into a fiery carpet of red and yellow that blanketed the nearer part of the park, shading into the muddy green of the grass. The road was wet , and the light fading fast; as he watched, the streetlights turned on.
If only it was that easy, thought Ted.
One of those ridiculous stretch limos pulled onto the hotel forecourt beneath him, and disgorged its occupants by the entrance. Two young men, one he thought he recognised from an earlier seminar, climbed out, followed by three women. Their short, clingy dresses and excessive laughter marked them out as party girls. It was inevitable, Ted thought has he watched them wobble into the lobby on stilted heels, that some big business conference in town would attract the working girls. If they hung around the bar after dinner, he was bound to meet some, or be approached.
Teds eyes drifted back across to the park boundary, where he watched a leaf spiral down, strobing through the newly lit amber streetlights. Probably the last leaf.
He grabbed his jacket, and headed downstairs.
Inspired by ScribblesChallenge #51
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